You are very brave, putting this out for comment - but admirable. I think it has potential. As hippo says, you don't have to give everything away in the first paragraphs, given that you've got plenty of space to fill. I do a fair bit of writing, and always write too much in the first draft. I've had a fiddle with your first bit, to see how it could be a bit less obvious and wordy. I don't mean this at all critically - just as another pair of eyes. I enjoyed what I read and wanted to read more. As PP have said, though, I'd keep the swearing to a minimum. The baseball cap sentence loses its impact with the inclusion of 'fucking', weirdly...
‘Hello my love. Are you all right this morning?’
Pam's head might have been sympathetically tilted, but her eyes were even beadier than those of Jane's Boston Terrier, Dottie [*I mention Dottie here, to avoid the lengthy description later].
You know I'm devastated and betrayed, Jane thought. But you're the only person around here who sells newspapers, so I have to put up with this. [avoid lengthy description of Pam being a newsagen]
She adjusted her baseball cap by way of defiance. Of all the humiliations heaped on her by her ex-husband over the past six months, being forced to wear a baseball cap had to rank up there with the worst of them.
"Oh you know, Pam. Soldiering on."
Pam tilted her head even further. That surely had to hurt.
‘I don’t know how you do it. I think I’d have ended it all by now, if I were you.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Well, it’s the humiliation, isn’t it? Bad enough he gets caught drink-driving, but then when it all came out about that young man...well, that would have just about finished me off.’
‘It hasn’t been my best year, Pam. Anyway, I must...’
‘When I’m standing behind that counter looking at the newspapers and all I can see are pictures of your little face, all sad, and then him grinning his head off on holiday with that little...well, I could spit, Jane, I really could.’
‘Please don’t spit on my behalf, Pam.’
‘And you so dignified. You two had such a lovely life. We loved having you and Rob living among us. Our local celebrity, we used to say. We’d see you, going out for nice lunches, or being driven back from London in a beautiful car, and we’d say, there they go. Don’t they have a lovely life? It gave all of us a bit of a lift, seeing how the other half lived. Something to look up to.’ Pam looked suddenly bereft.
‘And now it’s all gone.’
‘Well, Pam, I’m very sorry to have disappointed you...’ Jane's sarcasm [no need to tell us that she's being sarcastic at quite such length, and 'dripping' with sarcasm is a cliche] was evidently wasted on Pam, who appeared to have disappeared into her own private reverie of loss ['lost' and 'loss' is a bad combination].
['Jane cleared her throat' is padding]
'Anyway. I must get this one home...’ Jane looked down at Dottie, who was sitting perfectly patiently at her feet, for what was probably the first time ever. Little traitor.
The threat of Jane's departure seemed to cause Pam to rally a little. ‘But you’re not bitter. Anyone can see that. I mean, you’ve obviously let yourself go a bit, but you’re not doing the red carpet thing any more, so nobody could blame you for that. It must have been exhausting, all that upkeep. And it was all for nothing anyway, seeing it was boys he liked all along...’
Okay. Too far. Jane felt her throat grow fat, an all too familiar sensation these days.
‘I really do need to be off...’ Dammit. Tears.
[if she's wearing sunglasses, she'd have to be crying an awful lot for this to be evident. She could hide brimming eyes behind big dark glasses. Presumably she needs to be wearing them as she's trying not not be recognised?]
‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you. Oh silly me! Here, have a tissue. Oh, what am I like, running off at the mouth like that. Here.’
Pam handed her a tissue [if Jane is, as she has just observed a few lines earlier, prone to tears at the moment, wouldn't she be carrying her own tissues/hanky?], and Jane removed her sunglasses in order to mop up her tears. As she did so, there was a familiar click and whirr, and she looked up just [avoid repeated 'just'] in time to see Pam giving a thumbs up in the direction of an old Subaru Forester that was parked in a side road facing them.
As she caught Jane’s eye, Pam at least had the decency to blush.
‘It’s for your own good. The world needs to see how devastated you are. That bastard will be back on telly in six months if you let this all blow over' ['let this all blow over' makes his return to TV sound like a positive thing. Presumably Pam means it to be a negative thing? In which case something along the lines of 'That bastard will worm his way back on telly if he's allowed to get away with it now', or some such']
There was so much Jane wanted to say, most of it in guttural Anglo Saxon. But the paparazzo was still there, and the more dramatic the scene, the more money he and, [comma after 'and'] in turn, Pam, would receive at her expense. So Jane simply tugged Dottie’s leash, shook her head briefly at Pam, and made for the relative safety of her own front door.